Finding Light
by Nightowl2374
Summary: Rydlen is a paladin who, since becoming a Blood Knight, always struggled with using the Light. He is haunted by the ghosts of his past before he decides he has had enough and to go to the land of Pandaria to try to leave his past behind. Along the way he meets new friends and finds himself as he fights the sha, and gains new wisdom from the Celestials.
1. The Past

Quel'Thalas. The land of eternal spring. A sanctuary to the elves that reside there. A land so powerful that you can almost feel the magic infused air caress your skin. A land so strong that even after the Scourge came and destroyed everything, the people were able to take it back as their own.

Though in the end, the land and it's people still suffered . Many have lost family and loved ones, not only in the invasion but all the horrible events that followed.

Rydlen had returned to the room he spent the last couple of years in. He remembered every distinct detail and pattern of the walls that surrounded him. He tried to put on his armor as he struggled with his inner demons.

He had also lost some of his family. His brother Hunter was a fierce fighter, though perished protecting the enchanted elf gates. Meanwhile his little sister Maestra was said to linger in the Ghostlands in the ruins of his old home, softly singing a child's song. Though when the rangers found her remains, it confirmed that she no longer drew breath.

His brother Hayden hasn't visited home since before the invasion. He was out on Alliance business when the Scourge attacked, and was probably too scared to even consider the thought of home anymore. Rydlen didn't know if he is angry at his brother for abandoning his home, or jelouse because he was lucky enough to escape.

During the invasion his mother hid in Silvermoon, tending to the injured and protecting him and his aunt. He was still young then, even by elven standards. If it wasn't for her he was sure many more would have been lost.

The heaviest blow at the time was learning of his fathers death. His mother wasn't the same since, and neither was he.

So when Prince Kael'thas bestowed the gift of a Naruu to his people, he was quick to join the ranks of the newly formed Blood Knights. From then he learned to wield the light as a weapon, rather than just for healing. His father would have been proud, having had been a paladin himself before his demise.

He left home to fight for the Horde, finally being able to see Azeroth for what it is, and hating the Alliance for what it has become. He slowly gained a name for himself as he traveled and carried out his duties. He struggled with his abilities but kept pushing forward, believing that the only way he could master them is just to keep putting them to the test.

He met an orc one fateful day, who saved him from having his flesh turned to a husk by felhounds. Trigdakh quickly became a close friend of his during his adventures in Outland, and where the orc was lacking brute strength, he redeemed himself in wisdom and understanding of the elements.

Rydlen hugged himself a bit, memories of the orc filled his head. Their accomplishments, the times they had to heavily urge their mounts to flee from Alliance camps they would've stumbled upon. Shivering in a tent, soaked to the bone. Laughing, and their first kiss…

He grasped his head, trying to prevent more thoughts from entering his head. Each thought of the orc was nothing but a burning hot blade that seared deep into his heart.

Rydlen pulled his hair up as he dressed before burying his face to his hands. Memories of Northrend plagued him, and thoughts of his lover burned his mind. How he distinctly saw a Valkyr cleave his ax through him, and how he couldn't help him. He had to run like a coward from fear of being overwhelmed. He had failed that day, and couldn't protect what meant most to him. He damned the Light for everything that was happening to him, and his powers grew weak.

What is a paladin without the Light?

He recalled seeing his Trigdakh another battle, and thinking he was just a hallucination before he ran him through. He didn't bleed, though he could see the life leaving his eyes as they dimmed. Rydlen collapsed and held him, ignoring the chaos of the battle around him. Trig was just a pawn in the Lich Kings game, and Rydlen was a pawn of the horde, but the fury he felt that day was devastating. He attacked any scourge that stood before him, and assured victory. But inside he only felt misery. Not pride.

He vowed to kill any scourge from that day on. He was weary of the Forsaken, especially after what he heard of the Wrath Gate incident. When he and the rest of the horde faced the Lich King in Icecrown, he was struck with a lethal blow to the chest, and incapacitating him. He had to be taken out of the fight in Ice Crown as a healer tried desperately to save his life.

Yet somehow he survived. Somehow he was still alive, able to draw breath. Everything of that time was a blur. He recalled various colours of healing spells and bandages before he was released to return home to Quel'thalas. He brought a hand to his chest as he changed to a heavier shirt, still able to distinctly feel the scar that remained. He clearly remembered the crushing pain and the struggle to breathe.

How a horrifyingly distinctly familiar man was there the remaining time, though Rydlen never saw him again after that. Not until recently.

Rydlen felt angry now, getting up and tearing his overly pump pillows off his bed and throwing them around his room and crying out in frustration.

He sat through the destruction of the world, having to be coddled by his mother and aunt. His world crumbled yet there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had enough. He had enough of being treated like a pariah because he had loved a savage. He had enough of hearing whispers of his father, a more exhalted member of the Ebon Blade.

He had to leave home, even if that meant that he may have to grovel to the Warchief. There are rumours of a far land among the mists. If he tried, he could be one of the first to go explore it. He knew it was the perfect opportunity to leave all of this behind. This life. This land. All of it. Even if it was just for a few weeks.

He had to prove himself. Not just to the Horde, nor his people, but to the Light. And as he tightened the straps of his armor, all he could think of is him being able to wield the light and the dream of feeling hope again. He picked up his sword and shield, and looked back at his mess of a room he hoped he wouldn't have to see for some time.

Maybe this would finally be his chance.


	2. What Once Was Home

They arrived at dawn, the warm desert sun glittering across the chilly ocean waters. Seagulls flew nearby and squawked as them and other birds caught fish in their bills. Life slowly prepared for the new day ahead. Rydlen didn't notice any of this as he dozed in the cabin of the Thundercaller.

When the zeppelin jolted to an abrupt stop at the platform, Rydlen fell off the bench he was resting on, quickly jumping into a defensive stance, and eyeing the surroundings around him. He sighed and relaxed when he realized he was in no danger.

He rubbed the back of his head as he moved up to the top deck, dodging the scurrying crew that was trying to douse a fire that formed at the engine. He paid little mind to this as he took the reins of his beloved steed, Karis. He mounted his horse and listened to the clopping sounds of metal against metal as the horse's hooves hit the platform. He heard the noise muffled slightly by the sound of construction around him.

Then he realized, this wasn't the Ogrimmar he was used to. Cold dark spires jutted into the sky, bearing the guards that patrol the city. Harsh spikes, which seemed to be a favourite aesthetic of the orcs, covered the walls.

For a moment Rydlen's numbness disappeared as he scanned his surroundings from the platform. He knew the Cataclysm changed many things in the world, though for some reason he hoped that Ogrimmar would have stayed the same. He paced around the perimeter of the plateau. He observed that there were three distinct districts within the city, one of which, in his opinion, looked disgusting and polluted. He saw the familiar totems of the Tauren and the huts of the trolls. He huffed a bit as he went down the elevator, watching the chains move the wooden platform to the ground. His mother would have loved to see the mechanism.

He nudged Karis forward, slowly trotting through The Drag to the Valley of Wisdom, mentally preparing himself to offer his services once again to the Warchief. He worried as he recalled that there was a new leader of the Horde now, though begged in his mind that the rumors were false. He looked around and what once was the familiar valley of wisdom now seemed to be more of a training ground for war.

All around him were training dummies, orcs and adventurers alike hacked away at them with weapons and spells. Each one focusing on honing their skill to the best of their ability. Rydlen paid them little mind as he searched for the Hold that the Warchief was meant to reside in.

Rydlen swallowed hard, realizing that the hold was no longer in this valley. He put on a strong face as he asked a guard where he could find the Warchief. The orc eyed him, as if almost in disgust before flatly saying,  
"Grommash Hold, Valley of Strength."

Rydlen eyed the orc a bit, feeling the ice in his tone. He let out a sharp breath through his nose before riding off, cutting through the orc slums, before slowing. He pushed through the crowds of adventurers milling around the valley, shouting and doing various things he paid no mind to. It was all just a dull buzzing in his ears.

He dismounted Karis, hitching her to a post nearby before entering Grommash Hold, barely breathing. Another guard stopped him from entering and asked him what he wanted.

"To pledge my allegiance to the new Warchief." While tempted, he kept a simple tone rather than a sarcastic one. He glanced at the guard's armor before his blood ran cold. This was no ordinary guard, but a Kor'Kron. He was sure that the guard could sense his twinge of fear, hearing them chuckle and mutter to themselves in orcish.

He frowned a bit before he was lead to no one other than Garrosh Hellscream. Now he knew he was doomed.  
"It's like Northrend all over again." He muttered to himself in Thalassian before kneeling to Garrosh, bowing his head low. He hoped it was just because of the humidity that sweat was coating his brow.

"And what do you want, whelp" Garrosh spat. Rydlen held back a scowl, wondering how the hell some meathead like Garrosh was chosen to replace the wise Thrall. He slowly looked up at the hulking brown skinned orc, who was different from what he remembered.

Gone was the heavy armor that Garrosh once wore, and all Rydlen could really focus on was Garrosh's muscular chest and mammoth sized shoulder pads, tusks taken from a pit lord and covered with spikes. They must have belonged to the demon who Garrosh's legendary father had slain. No wonder he wore them so proudly.

"Well?" Rydlen cleared his throat so he could speak, looking up at the new Warchief.  
"I have come to personally swear loyalty on my behalf, and to once again offer my services to the Horde." He replied smoothly. Garrosh paused a moment before starting to laugh, while Rydlen used all his willpower not to roll his eyes. He was never fond of Garrosh, and was glad to have been transferred from his command in Northrend.

"Fine then, you will serve _me_, and the Horde, or be crushed by your insolence." He chuckled. Rydlen just nodded and bowed low again, thanking him quietly. He took the oath, then received orders to report to General Nazgrim at sunrise.

The moment Rydlen stepped back into the hot sun, he let out a sigh of relief. Many hours half already passed since he arrived, and as he unhitched and mounted Karis, he went to find a place to relax.

As he entered a tavern and lost himself to drink and pleasure, he thought about how even in the place he once considered to be his second home now meant nothing to him. The world has changed, and will continue to change. And now he was letting it all go.


End file.
